Sophie had just dismissed Eira for the evening when a sharp knock rattled her chamber door. The sound was too controlled, too deliberate, to belong to a servant. Her heart stuttered in her chest.
Before she could reply, the door opened.
Alexander entered without ceremony, flanked by two guards who lingered at the threshold until he dismissed them with a flick of his hand. The door shut behind him, leaving Sophie alone with the king.
The chamber suddenly felt smaller, the firelight weaker.
"My king," Sophie said carefully, forcing calm into her voice as she rose from her chair. "You come late tonight."
He did not answer at once. His gaze swept the room—slow, sharp, searching—before landing on her. The weight of it was almost physical, and Sophie had to resist the urge to step back.
"I've been patient with you," Alexander said finally, his voice low but edged with steel. "But patience has limits."
A chill swept through her. "I… I don't understand."
"Oh, I think you do." He took a measured step closer, his presence filling the chamber like a storm pressing against the windows. "You've wandered where you shouldn't. You've asked questions that should have remained buried. And tonight—" His eyes narrowed, glinting like ice. "—you were not in your chambers."
Sophie's pulse raced. So he had been watching.
She tried to summon composure, but her throat felt tight. "You have guards everywhere. Perhaps they mistook me for someone else."
"Do not play me for a fool." His words cut sharp, like a blade. "I know where you went. The east wing."
Her breath caught. For a moment, neither spoke. The crackling of the fire was the only sound.
Alexander moved closer still, until he was only a step away. "Do you know why that wing is sealed, Sophie?"
She shook her head quickly. "No… I…"
"It is because danger festers there. Secrets that were never meant for prying eyes." His gaze bore into her, unreadable yet burning with restrained fury. "And yet you went. Why?"
Sophie's fingers twisted into the folds of her gown. A dozen excuses rose to her lips, but none felt safe. To lie outright was dangerous—he would know. But to confess everything was worse.
"I was curious," she managed, keeping her voice steady. "The palace is vast and filled with whispers. I wanted to see for myself what lay beyond its locked doors."
"Curiosity." He repeated the word as though tasting it, his lips curving into something sharp. "That is a fragile defense."
His hand lifted suddenly, not in violence but to tilt her chin upward, forcing her to meet his eyes. The touch was firm, unyielding.
"You saw the mural," he said softly, almost intimately, though menace laced his tone.
Her heart stopped. "What… what do you mean?"
"I've seen it too." His thumb brushed her chin lightly, deceptively gentle. "The likeness is uncanny. A queen long gone… and yet, her reflection walks in my halls once more."
Sophie's stomach twisted. He knew. Not everything, but enough to make her skin prickle with dread.
"I am not Seraphina," she whispered, voice breaking despite her effort.
"No." His gaze darkened, his hand dropping from her chin. "But you are tied to her. Of that, I am certain."
He turned away then, striding toward the fire as though the flames could temper his anger. "Do you think I have not noticed? Your secrets. Your whispers with the handmaiden. The way you tread through my palace like a thief in silk."
Sophie's lips parted, but no words came. She had been careful—so careful—yet he had seen through it all.
At last, she forced her voice steady. "If you truly believe me a thief, then why keep me here? Why not cast me out, as you did others?"
Alexander pivoted sharply, his cloak swirling with the motion. His eyes locked onto hers with such intensity she could scarcely breathe.
"Because you are not like the others," he said. "And because if the prophecy is true, then you are the key to its end."
The word hit her like a blow. Prophecy.
So he did believe.
Her knees weakened, but she stood tall. "And if I am? If everything the whispers say is true?"
For the first time, Alexander hesitated. His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. The flicker of doubt—or was it fear?—crossed his face before his usual mask returned.
"Then I will decide what to do with you," he said coldly. "Not the gods. Not fate. Me."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Sophie's chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, her mind a storm of terror and defiance.
"You cannot chain destiny," she whispered.
He stepped close again, towering over her, his voice low enough that it felt like a vow against her skin. "Watch me."
They stood locked in silence, the firelight dancing between them like the only witness.
Finally, Alexander drew back, the storm in his gaze shuttered but not gone. "From this night forward, you do not leave your chambers without my leave. You will eat, rest, and breathe under my watch. If I find you have disobeyed me again…" His eyes narrowed to a dangerous edge. "Even prophecy will not shield you."
With that, he turned sharply and strode to the door. The guards outside snapped to attention as he opened it.
Before stepping through, Alexander glanced back over his shoulder. His eyes lingered on her one last time—burning with suspicion, possession, and something she could not name.
Then he was gone, and the heavy lock clicked into place behind him.
Sophie staggered back until her knees hit the bed. She sat heavily, her whole body trembling.
He knew. He didn't know everything, but enough to make her next steps perilous.
Her only certainty was this: the game had changed. The shadows of the east wing were no longer secret. The king himself had stepped into them.
And Sophie was now caught squarely in his trap.